


Spectrums

by Virodeil



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:58:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6458647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virodeil/pseuds/Virodeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to answer my own set of challenges; "100 Prompts." A collection of drabbles (from true drabbles to triple drabbles, according to MS Word) spanning the Beginning to the First Age, told through various scenes, in the point of viewof various characters – Elves, Men, Ainur, Dwarves, Ents, animals, and even orcs; not chronologically. Ratings may vary. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire: Well-Named

**Author's Note:**

> 1. Rating, warning(s), genre(s) and length will be noted individually before each ficlet posted. Please beware that some ficlets skim the lower edge of R, and some others, while rated PG, might contain sensitive topics.  
> 2. The 100-prompt bit is actually not so certain. Readers are quite welcome to suggest other prompts. If the prompt(s) got used, of course the suggester(s) got acknowledgement on the ficlet's notes. If my muse is being agreeable at that time, I might even get them some favour/storylet as a gift.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Battle of Sudden Flames, in Aegnor’s point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Teens  
> Warnings: gruesome battle/defeat  
> Genres: action, horror  
> Characters: Aegnor  
> Length: single drabble

The dragon roared. People scattered like leaves in the wind, trying to avoid it. Many were not lucky. Caught between the Worm’s deadly breath and the molten lava pouring forth from Thangorodrim, they had nowhere to flee. Their screams were swallowed by the cacophony, and their bodies shrivelled in the searing and devouring heat. The plains were aglow with fell light.

 

Aegnor watched as his brother Angrod and his troops were overwhelmed first, two leagues away, and then it was his and his men’s turn.

 

He did not scream. He laughed and cried in bitter irony instead. Fell Fire, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aikanáro (the Quenya form of Aegnor’s name) means Fell Fire.


	2. Pet: For Pity's Sake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A squirrel and a pair of young cousins with differing personalities… Chaos ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: none  
> Genres: drama, family  
> Characters: Morwen, OFC, Rían  
> Length: single drabble

“Mama! Morwen stole my squirrel!” Rían shrieked.

 

“It needs to go back to the wilds!” Morwen countered hotly. “Papa and Uncle Belegund said so.”

 

Rían wept and howled. “She can’t live alone!” she pleaded, while trying to seize the contested squirrel from her older cousin’s arms, which was chattering angrily, showing its displeasure at the noises and the jostling. The skin of Morwen’s arms was streaked red from its claws and the front of her dress was similarly torn.

 

Mellenel sighed with tired exasperation and put down the laundry basket she had been carrying. Time for some damage control, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece takes place in Dorthonion before the Battle of Sudden Flames. Morwen was six years old, while Rían was four. I did not find the names of their mothers in The Silmarillion, so I made up one according to the need of this piece. Taliska was their language, so I thought it would not be right to make the children say “Ada” and “Nana”; it is Sindarin. However, I do not dare make up names and claim them as belonging to Taliska.


	3. Pet: Duty Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: none  
> Genres: friendship  
> Characters: Huan, Luthien  
> Length: single drabble

“Why did you obey him?” Luthien raged. “You know how blockheaded he can be!” She glared at Huan. “Do not look at me like that. You are not gaining my compassion by looking piteous.”

 

Huan whined and licked her hand. She shoved his muzzle away. “Stop that!” But she was trying to stifle a smile at the same time. “Fine. You let him go while I told you otherwise. So now you ought to bear me to him. You would not disobey him too, then.”

 

Huan huffed and grinned. Luthien gave him a last glare, packed, then mounted his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “he” Luthien talked about was of course Beren. This was when Beren had left them in Doriath to go to Angband alone. This piece is an homage to Philosopher at Large’s marvelous screenplay-script rendering of the Lay of Leithian, including the usage of the ‘modernised’ language in this tiny piece.


	4. Plants: The Dangling Carrot Approach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Ereinion could be obstinate about things. How did people go about melting his resolve? Erestor was new to this, but it did not mean that he was not up to the task…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: none  
> Genres: character study, general  
> Characters: Ereinion, Erestor  
> Length: double drabble

“But those are just plants, Eros,” Ereinion protested. The argument had been as old as his previous tutor’s trying to teach him about plants and their aspects. Surely Master Galadel had told his successor that?

 

But Erestor just stared at him blankly, then, when the argument registered in his mind, exasperatedly. Why had he agreed to Lord Fingon to teach his son? He had been just a messenger from Lord Turgon, and he could have refused the request. Well, there was no use crying over spilled milk.

 

He brought Ereinion out to the garden. There he showed the child some athelas, bade him to smell the leaves, crushed some in his hand and asked Ereinion to do it again. Then they visited the kitchens for a small basin and heated water. He dumped the crushed leaves into the steaming container, and a unique fragrance went up.

 

Ereinion’s eyes lit up. “Can we bring it to the study, Eros?” he pleaded. “Perhaps we can have it every time too?”

 

“Could, Erin, could,” Erestor admonished, but he was smiling. “So now you would learn some more about it and its brethren?”

 

The child nodded eagerly. Erestor smirked to himself. One problem solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is a companion piece to one of my stories, _Brother Mine_. Ereinion (Erin) was ten years old and Erestor (Eros) was one hundred years old. The story takes place in Hithlum, in Fingolfin’s fortress inherited by Fingon.


	5. Threat: Overkill Over Killing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Radog and Otol, two (from many) orcs stationed about the Echoriath after Húrin had revealed the location of Gondolin, were fighting over a fresh kill. Who won?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: Young Adults  
> Warnings: gruesome idea, gruesome talk  
> Genres: horror  
> Characters: OMC’s  
> Length: double drabble

Radog snarled. “It’s mine,” he barked. The Elven scouting team had been beaten back, leaving only one dead in the battlefield. But the orcs had been all killed except the quarrelling two.

 

Otol sneered. “I killed it, you sneak.” He pointed at his naked scimitar in emphasis, then gestured at the Firstborn’s body some yards away with it. Fresh red blood dripped from the rustic blade. “Your fault you didn’t kill any. Those cowards’ve fled back to their hole, eh? No time to grab one, now?” He croaked with laughter, like a vulture in sight of prey.

 

Growling like an enraged warg, Radog swung his scimitar at the other orc. Ranks were forgotten now that there was a promise of fresh Elven flesh and there were only the two of them on site. “I’ll chop you small, maggot, and eat you with the treat.”

 

“I’ll feed you to the mangy beasts and tell them to report to the Great One that I won the battle alone. Then he’ll award me.” Otol snorted. He met Radog’s sword with his with wicked enthusiasm.

 

In the ensuing fight, their quarrelled object, not half as dead as they had thought, crept away to safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The mangy beasts” were of course the wargs, and the “Great One” is Morgoth. Heh, now who was the cleverer between the two?


	6. Water: The Two-Legged Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How was swimming invented?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: none  
> Genres: adventure, friendship  
> Characters: Elmo, Nowë  
> Length: triple drabble
> 
> List of terms used:  
> The Bright/Bright People/One(s): Minyar, Vanyar;  
> The Dark/Dark People/One(s): Tatyar, Ñoldor;  
> The Fair/Fair People/One(s): Nelyar, Teleri.

“What’re you doing, Nowë?” Elmo hopped to the Chiftain’s side.

 

It was several star-turnings after the Awakening and their gathering by the lakeshore, but they kept finding new things and concepts. And Nowë produced some creepy – unlooked-for, unthought-for – contributions, which interested Elmo.

 

In answer, Nowë pointed at the span of gently-moving liquid before them, grinning.

 

“Bad, bad thing. It nearly swallowed Elwë,” Elmo grumbled, frowning darkly in recollection. But then he conceded, “I think it just doesn’t like people disturbing its peace. Though it’s actually Finwë’s fault.” He glared at a short finger of liquid lapping at the small rocky prominence on which they crouched. That Dark One had nearly made his eldest brother swallowed by the water, and he was unpleasantly reminded of the Black Hunter taking some stray Quendi from their midst. They had been playing too near to the shore, or so Elwë had reluctantly confessed, and Finwë had accidentally jostled Elwë when they were racing to the camp of the Brights.

 

“Oh no,” Nowë insisted. “It told me how to stay on the surface. Elwë just didn’t know. I can teach you, and you can teach people, so nobody will be swallowed again.” He flapped his hands by his ears for emphasis, then did it in the water – spraying them with droplets in the process.

 

Elmo stared at Nowë for a long moment. The Fair People loved Nowë dearly, but they agreed that their chieftain’s excessive interest in water was rather weird. Nowë spent most of his time contemplating it on the spot he was now occupying, and doing some daring or just outright quirky experiments with it. He could not deny that the knowledge and skills Nowë discovered helped the Quendy very much, but that did not make Nowë less unnerving most of the times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is a gapfiller to _Stay With Me_. Seeing how the Unbegotten are yet quite young in mind in this stage of their life, the tone of this piece is rather childish. I also use the version of the telling that says Elwë (Elu Thingol) has two brothers: Olwë and Elmo. And here Nowë (Círdan) is the chieftain of their people, not Elwë. (Yes, I am mangling some legends stated in canon here, and also several fanon interpretations.)


	7. Wind: The Kite Runners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgoth’s hands are long and cruel. Elrond and Elros learn it the hard way, through an innocent gesture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: General  
> Warnings: none  
> Genres: friendship, supernatural  
> Characters: Elrond, Elros, Erestor  
> Length: triple drabble

“Eros! Teach us! Teach us!”

 

Two children burst into the garden, where Maglor had said the ellon could be found.

 

Erestor looked up from contemplating the sturdy rose bush before him. “Elros, Elrond, what did I say about yelling?”

 

“Sorry, Eros,” Elros offered hastily, his expression a little less excited. “But we wanted—“

 

“—Hoped,” Elrond piped in, correcting his elder twin sternly—

 

“—Hoped, that you would teach us,” Elros resumed without missing a beat, while thrusting a colourful kite made of some unused parchment in their caretaker’s direction. Erestor frowned at it, then looked at the similar one in Elrond’s hands.

 

He shook his head. The children deflated visibly. “Maglor didn’t want to teach us too,” Elros complained. “And he told us to stay inside, even. But it’s summer!”

 

Elrond’s look was pensive though, and after a moment he said, uncertainly, “He mentioned something about bad weather. But what does it have to do with kiting?”

 

Erestor shook his head yet again. “Everything to do with it, children,” he said firmly. He took each of the children’s hands in his own and guided them to a less-sheltered part of the yard, farther away from the fortress.

 

A chill blast of wind blew from the north, making them shiver. It seemed that it had been blowing that way for some time, seeing how the sturdy, stunted trees decorating the cold region had lost most of their leaves, which were strewn southward.

 

“The North is active again, children,” he murmured sadly, bitterly.

 

Elros gaped uncomprehendingly, but Elrond gasped. “Morgoth,” he whispered in awe and fear.

 

Erestor flinched. “Do not say his name, Elrond, and you too, Elros. He dwells so near to us, and his fingers are reaching out again…”

 

Their kites forgotten, the children pressed close to him.


	8. Hobby: Troublesome Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are certain norms about twins, from traits to hobbies. Amrod and Amras are not exempt from them, and they do not mind it, at all. Maedhros is just being unlucky, caught in one of such moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Warnings: none  
> Genres: family, humor  
> Characters: Amras, Amrod, Maedhros  
> Length: single drabble

Maitimo clutched at his temples. “Ambarussa, would you please stop that?” But there was no hope in his thin plea.

The twins grinned unrepentantly.

“What did you say, brother?” one said.

“We asked something to you, you know,” the other resumed.

“Should we—“

“—Take residence—“

“—Like Makalaurë and Carnistir—“

“—And Tyelcormo and Atarinkë?”

“Because we do not wish so,” they finished together, then winked playfully at their eldest brother, who groaned and raised his hands in surrender.

“Anything you like.” Maitimo relented. “As long as you do not do it again.”

They only smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> List of names used:  
> Ambarussa: Amrod and Amras  
> Atarinkë: Curufin  
> Carnistir: Caranthir  
> Maitimo: Maedhros  
> Makalaurë: Maglor  
> Tyelkormo: Celegorm
> 
> Notes: Rather fluffy. The piece takes place at the time when the sons of Fëanor are staking out lands for themselves. I thought they would both consult Maedhros as the wisest of them and ask his permission as the head of their family before doing anything about it.


	9. Tradition: Manly Hazing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bungy-jumping has occurred since a very, very, very long time ago, apparently, and for the same purpose as in the semi-modern use of it. But how if the hapless warrior-to-be is afraid of heights?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Warnings: none  
> Genres: adventure, friendship  
> Characters: Celeborn, Galathil, Thranduil  
> Length: triple drabble
> 
> Credit: The Mauri tribe in New Zealand. Pardon my using your tradition here and claiming it originating not from you, please! It is only for the sake of enjoyment, no more and no less.
> 
> Notes: I do not know when Thranduil was born, but I guess some time before the rising of the Sun and Moon. In this piece, he is just above his age of majority.

“You wanted to be a warrior. You have to go through this, then. Or would you rather back down?”

 

“—No.”

 

“Cousin… Do you not trust the tree?”

 

“But—“

 

“You never shirked from any adventure before.”

 

Thranduil looked down. Meekly he confessed, “I fear heights…”  


“Oh,” Celeborn murmured, understanding.

 

“But it is tradition, cousin. You cannot serve Uncle Elu and Aunt Melian as a warrior if you cannot pass this,” Galathil coaxed hopefully. “See? They are waiting for you to pass this, and they are so eager to have you.” He motioned to the ranks of warriors waiting by the big tree growing on the precipice of a green ravine. The royal family stood on the very front, and presently they were watching the three with mounting concern.

 

` _The royal family! They were watching!_ ` Thranduil, growing even more desperate, looked imploringly at his cousins, hoping for a solution.

 

But they did not have it. So, giving up with fatalistic resignation, he marched with them to the aforementioned tree.

 

Galathil and Celeborn prepared the ropes while he hunkered down on a lower branch, trembling.

 

Galathil bade him to climb up to the platform on the crown of the tree when the ropes were ready. Celeborn followed him and fascened one end of the rope system to his ankles before he could change his mind. Then they climbed back down to their posts, leaving him on the platform.

 

The royal family climbed the tree via the pulley platform provided for them. The Queen blessed him by putting a hand on his head. The King recited a short speech about valour and harmony with nature, two traits most valued in Sindarin warriors.

 

Then the Princess shoved Thranduil over the platform, rather energetically.

 

He plummeted down. Green death was approaching _fast_.

 

He shrieked.


	10. Earth: The Other Side of the Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sindar of Doriath are understandingly outraged with the Dwarves, with their king killed by them. But what about the Dwarves themselves? What do they think or say about it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Warnings: thoughts of vengeance and murder  
> Genres: hurt/comfort, family, tragedy  
> Characters: OFC  
> Length: triple drabble

Nogrod was in uproar. The Children of Mahal had set out to the Enchanted Cave-lands, seeking revenge upon the insolent Elf-king. But few had come back – And such who had, spoke about it with mingled fear and fury beyond measure.

 

And the land itself… It was shifting even now, just some time after the fruitless attack to the Enchanted Cave-lands. It was as if the Elves could do that to the sacred earth!

 

Kía half-heartedly worked on her loom. Thoughts of her slain father haunted her still, and it would likely stay until she joined her ancestors in the Hall of Waiting. It was so tempting, taking arms and avenging her father and brethren, but…

 

Oh, how she wished she were a male! The other races had never truly known the extent of importance of Dwarven females in their own society: the axis of their culture. The life of their daily breaths. – Because Mahal did have a spouse, whose love was that of nurturing and nurrishment, of management.

 

And that meant: Females could not go to battle. Females were highly guarded in wartime; although, other than their cultural and vital functions, they were quite like their male counterparts in skills, temper–

 

–Desires…

 

Her hands tightened on the warp. Her jawline was set. She was all that. But she was also her father’s only child, and her mother had espoused another male after his death. Someone should take up the responsibility of avenging her father, and that could just as well be she. (He had no other family left.)

 

And if she should seek to slay those who had slain her father, it was not clothing of wool and cotton that she should weave, but that of chains and plates of metal. And she must also forge a weapon or three…


	11. Breaking the Habit: When the Very Ground Is Your Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no song sung about the Grinding Ice. There is a reason why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Warnings: desperation, hopeless death  
> Genres: horror, tragedy  
> Characters: the Exiled  
> Length: single drabble

A few thousand steps. They always halted and made camp after a few thousand excruciating steps. There was shelter of furs and bodies, then, and meagre rations of food and water, and such light that they brought with them in the form of stone-lamps.

 

But the ice always pursued them, growling and snapping. It never rested.

 

It took some of their number, sometimes, when they rested. No care of distinction. No care of age.

 

But it nearly took the last children and their parents, when they were walking, so near to the end of the journey.

 

They rested no more.


	12. Betrayal: The Macabre Side of a Trade-Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Maeglin see in Idril?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Warnings: homicidal madness, twisted reasoning  
> Genres: horror, stream-of-consciousness  
> Characters: Maeglin  
> Length: single drabble
> 
> Note: Set around the Fall of Gondolin.

She is so beautiful. She is worth everything. – She is mine.

 

She is mine. The Dread King has promised me so. She is mine. The city is a ransom fit for such a beauty. In hindsight, I am glad the Exhaulted One caught me, when I was mining the mountains. He practically hands me she whom I seek to possess.

 

And when the city falls, those hateful, cynical people are down with it. – I am truly blessed! I shall serve him with my property by my side, serving me in turn… She is going to make a good, pretty servant.


	13. Rebellion: The Plot of Little Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The youngest sons of Curufinwë Fëanáro thought of something never desired before _against_ their father…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: G  
> Warnings: none  
> Genres: adventure, family  
> Characters: Amras, Amrod  
> Length: single drabble
> 
> List of Terms Used:  
> Ammë: Mum/Mummy  
> Anammë: Grandmum  
> Atto: Dad/Daddy

Ambarussa stared daringly at each other, identical faces scrunched up in consternation.

 

They did not want to follow their father to Formenos, to exile. (Such a horrid word!) Ammë was not going with them.

 

They could not stay with Ammë, said she, for fear of incurring Atto’s wrath. But they could stay with the Foamriders in Alqualondë. (She once told them that Anammë Míriel was a Foamrider herself, and bade them not to tell anyone.)

 

Nighttime: a perfect chance to slip out, not going with Atto. They could visit Ammë if they staid with the Foamriders.

 

Ambarussa, sons of Nerdanel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ambarussa is initially the name of both youngest sons of Fëanor and Nerdanel: Amras and Amrod.  
> The last line was inspired by the Shibboleth of Fëanor, in which he claimed to be the son of Míriel Þerindë, not the son of Finwë.  
> It is up to readers, whether this drabble is to be labled AU or not; the ending was left open because of that.


	14. What Happens Now?: When the World Falls Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Melian after Elu, the last of her incarnate family, was dead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG  
> Warnings: implied major battle, implied major character death  
> Genres: tragedy  
> Characters: Melian  
> Length: double drabble  
>   
> Note: Nominated in MEFAwards 2010 by the late Fiondil; my appreciation and gratitude, always.

Melian jerked as if punched. There had been surprise, betrayal, rage, and then… nothing. She felt nothing through her bond. There was only emptiness. A black void.

 

Elu was dead. Her spouse, to whom she had dedicated her life and love in the recent star-turnings, had gone west into Lord Námo’s keeping, to be reembodied later – and it was just a _possibility_ – by the grace of Lord Námo and the mercy of Eru.

 

A chill, which had little to do with the slaughter happening in the treasury below, swept through her whole being like a tide of choking malice. She would scream, but her throat could no longer work properly.

 

Her body became translucent, then transparent, following the command of her subconscious will: to forsake this wreckage, like she had Almaren, to follow her spouse westward…

 

She returned to her natural form.

 

For a moment, she was gripped by disorientation. Everything was so much different in the perception of a born spirit in natural form. No incarnate senses to ground her, literally and metaphysically, and no ties to anchor her to this war-torn land also.

 

Luthien was dead. Elu was dead.

 

She fled. The burden was too much to bear.


End file.
